"This is brother to my Marian!" cried Robin, inwardly. "Ay, for sure, 'tis the lad Fitzwalter, and no Gilbert of Bloist Yet Warrenton did not tell me that there was a brother."

He replied to the page. "Did not this fellow, this Robin, have other name? Robin o' th' Hood--why, all of them wear their capes and hoods nowadays--how can such a man as I know him whom you seek, to say whether he be dead or alive?"

"Forester, he was much like to you; but had no beard, nor was he quite so uncouth as you. I mean no offence. I saw him but twice; but he seemed a lovable fellow. I remember that some called him Robin of Locksley."

"I knew him right well," said Robin, in decided tones. "Come with me, Master Gilbert, and you shall hear of him."

"He lives, then?" The page's blue eyes glistened happily.

"Did your--sister send you, Master Gilbert?" asked Robin, with his heart in his mouth.

The boy gave him a puzzled stare. "My sister--who told you that I had a sister?" Then, changing his policy with swift intuition: "Ay, my sister did send me to find the man. Bring me to him."

"Follow me, Master Gilbert of Blois," cried Robin. So Marian had remembered him. It was a happy morning, indeed!

"This poor stag," began the page, pointing to it. "I wish now that I had not slain it."

"'Tis one of the King's deer," observed Robin, grave again, "and you may be hanged for the killing of it. What put so desperate a business into your mind, friend?"

"I--to tell truth, had a notion to be made outlaw, like--like unto Master Robin, in short," said the page. "But I did not know that they might hang me for't." He made a grimace.

Robin went up to the beast and drew out the boy's arrow. Then he stuck one of his own peac.o.c.ked shafts into the wound. "Now you are safe, Gilbert," said he, smiling. "Take the arrow, and keep it in your quiver until we can dispose of it. I leave my mark upon the buck--my fellows will find and deal with it."

They walked together into Barnesdale, and Robin showed the boy their hiding-place and presented him to the rest. He asked that he might become one of their company, and all agreed. So he took the vow fervently, and was given Little John's place for the nonce.

Robin asked them not to mention him by name, wishing to know more of Master Gilbert's plans ere disclosing himself. The boy was full of chatter, and had news for them, too. He gave them the sequel to the Bishop's adventure, and told how my lord of Hereford had come into Nottingham in parlous state--more dead than alive: how he had lain prostrate upon a sick-bed in the Sheriff's house for the best part of three days: how, having briefly recovered, he had made a full statement of his experiences, and had cursed the greenwood men with bell, book, and candle: how he had sworn that he they thought to be dead--Robin of Locksley--was very much alive and full of wickedness.

"Master Monceux, whom I have no cause to love," continued Gilbert, in quick speech, "has bidden his archers and men to a.s.semble, and has promised a round sum for the head of each greenwood man, such as I perceive you all to be, and since I am now of your company, friends, I suppose my head is worth as much as Master Robin's or any of yours?

Which of you is Robin o' th' Hood? I fain would look upon a man who can recover from death so valiantly."

Berry and Much were, both together, preparing to point to Robin, forgetting their promise. Robin gave them a quick glance of warning.

"Come, friends, let us to breakfast," he cried, rising. "I am sharp set, and soon we shall be hearing from the Sheriff's men, no doubt. Let us fortify ourselves withal."

All that morning went by, however, without further event. The greenwood men became uneasy. All felt that some terrible plot was being hatched against them, and their unrest grew with the day. Had Little John turned traitor? And was he now preparing their enemies?

Soon after noon Robin called them together into the biggest of their caves. He offered to disguise himself and go into Nottingham--there to learn the best or worst.

Many of them made objection to this, saying that one had no reason to take more risk than another in this free company. Robin persuaded them at last to his own way of thinking, as he had already done before.

Unconsciously they were coming to regard him as their head, although any one of them would have fiercely denied this in open council. Robin took a staff, and hurried towards the highroad for the second time that day.

He had another reason for making this adventure: the fond hope of seeing Mistress Marian. Her brother--for so he felt sure this young Gilbert must be--had stirred afresh in Robin's heart all his warm love for her.

He wondered what he could say to her.

Why, he could tell her of Gilbert's escapade! Of course she must be trembling at this very moment for the boy and thinking him in a thousand dangers! It was another duty added to that to which Robin bore towards the company of freemen. He doubled and trebled his pace.

Suddenly, as he came upon the road, the sound of a l.u.s.ty singing struck upon his ears. Robin became aware of a shabby cart and a bushy figure leading a bony horse, and the smell of fresh-killed meat. It was an honest butcher on his way to market in Nottingham.

"Give you good day, friend," called Robin to him. "You have a fair load there--what is your price for it?"

"Why, truly, beggar, a bigger price than you will pay, I fear," answered the butcher, in the middle of his song.

"I will give you four pieces of gold for it," said Robin.

The butcher stopped his thin horse at once. "Take the reins then, master," cried he, joyfully; "the cart and all is yours for the sum!

Pay it to me, and I will go back into Locksley forthwith."

"Do you come from that village, friend?" asked Robin, as he paid over the gold, "and are you not afraid to ride through Sherwood alone?"

"You are strange to this country, friend," answered the jolly butcher, "else you would know that now our Sherwood is free as air to all men.

The outlaws and wicked ones have all been driven out of it."

"Is this indeed so? Truly I am rejoiced at the news. And Locksley--is not the Ranger there now dead, and his house burned? I do misremember his name."

"Master Fitzooth is dead and lieth in Locksley ground. Also his son, wild Robin, is no more. He gave himself early to the outlaw band, and was slain. We have a new Ranger at Locksley, one Adam of Kirklees, a worthy man and a generous. I thank you for your gold: now take my load and may fortune befriend you."

"G.o.d rest you, butcher," answered Robin, laughing, as the other turned on his heel and began his song once more. "Stay--stay--I have a thought," he called out after the butcher. "How can I sell meat in this garb?"

The other paused and scratched his head doubtfully.

"I'll give you another piece for your clothes, friend," said Robin, persuasively. "Is it a bargain?"

"I'll do it for another piece," said the butcher. "Ay, and think myself fortunate. This is a very happy day, for sure. Strip yourself, beggar; and you can hand your purse over to me with the rags if you care to!"

Robin laughed again and shook his head. The change was soon effected, and within ten minutes he was leading his spavined horse toward the gates of Nottingham. In the distance he could hear the butcher's loud song losing itself in the forest sounds.

He smeared his face with grease and earth and rubbed his hair awry ere daring to enter the city. Boldly he led his shuffling horse to the market and there took up his place. He had no notion of the price to ask, and the folk, finding him so foolish and easy a man, soon began to crowd about the cart.

Robin gave as much for a penny as the other butchers did for five or six when his customer was poor. If he seemed to be a prosperous citizen who would buy, Robin had quite another price for him.

The butchers about him could not quite understand these novel methods: but they saw with envy that the harebrained fellow was selling all his meat. His loud voice and foolish gestures made them think him some crazy loon who had slipped off with his good man's cart. They entered into conversation with him, and found his witless speech most entertaining.

They had all been bidden to a supper in the Sheriff's b.u.t.tery that night, this being holiday-time; and they begged Robin to join with them, hoping to have no little amus.e.m.e.nt from him. With a vacant stare he agreed to eat the Sheriff's mutton.

All the time he had sharp eyes and long ears; but could find out nothing of the Sheriff's plans, nor happen on sight of Mistress Fitzwalter. When they were sitting down to the supper in Monceux's b.u.t.tery he perceived towering high amongst the Sheriff's servants the figure of Master Little John.

"So, friend, my visit here has not been vain," thought Robin, grimly.

"Now we shall see and hear things, no doubt." He settled himself to an attack upon the viands, and played his part with the Sheriff's ale, not forgetting to keep up the att.i.tude of foolishness he had adopted in the market.

The laughter grew long and loud, and presently the Sheriff himself came down. He made them a speech and gave a toast. My lord of Hereford, looking very pale and limp, also came into the b.u.t.tery for a s.p.a.ce and made them a Latin grace.

Then Monceux told them, with bristling eyebrows, how he had been instructed by the Bishop of Hereford that the pestilent evil bands whose power had once been broken had re-formed in Sherwood. The Sheriff re-stated the reward to be given for the head of any malefactor and disturber of their laws, as ordered by Prince John; and said further that in a few days he was going to despatch his men into and about the forest to satisfy the Bishop. "Whilst I am preparing my fellows, there is a chance for all honest citizens and burgesses to earn a fair sum. My lord of Hereford will add his reward to the man who shall recover his money to him, or part of it; and I will give such man freedom from all taxes and levies," added the Sheriff, importantly.

Robin wondered whether Little John had spoken of the company. While he was eyeing darkly the burly figure of Master Nailor, the latter came over to him under a pretence of filling Robin's gla.s.s.

"By my skin, Locksley," whispered the giant into his startled ear, "this is a foolish adventure! Your head is as good as off your shoulders in this place. Hasten to leave it soon as you can, for fear the Bishop may know you as I have done."

Robin only stared in his new half-vacant manner. Little John moved away to another part of the room. Hard questions formed themselves in Robin's mind--how had Little John known him? Stranger still, why did not my lord of Hereford recognize Master John Little Nailor? He had been foremost in the business with the Bishop. Robin recollected, all at once, that when the Bishop had briefly come in to bless the supper, Little John had gone out hurriedly with some dishes.